The Return to Hogwarts

Percy felt a wave of dizziness, overwhelmed by a surge of happiness. He hadn't expected the minister to actually give him a chance, especially for such an important position.

"What do I need to do, Minister?"

Percy's voice suddenly became hoarse.

“The ministry is indeed facing a difficulty that is troubling me. Senior Deputy Minister Umbridge and I are at a loss as to how to resolve it. If you can move things forward, then the ministry will not have any complaints about my exceptional promotion of you.”

"Excuse my bluntness, Minister, but I'm afraid Percy is worried about something that will trouble you and Umbridge. As I just said, he also lacks work experience."

A bad feeling crept into Mr. Weasley's heart. He politely declined, but Fudge ignored him, staring intently at Percy.

"So, are you willing to give it a try, Percy?"

"I do, Minister!"

Percy immediately puffed out his chest, without even asking what had caused the high-ranking Minister of Magic and his deputy such a headache, but the shrewd Mr. Weasley had already sensed a conspiracy in Fudge's words, and he said tactfully,

“Percy is just a young man who has just graduated from Hogwarts, Minister. I’m afraid he can’t overcome the problem that is troubling you and Ms. Umbridge.”

"Oh, this has nothing to do with work experience."

Fudge smiled.

“It’s actually not complicated. You just graduated from Hogwarts, Percy. You should know that the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors at that school are frequently replaced, and right now Dumbledore can’t even find a suitable candidate for the position. But we can’t let this situation continue, right? The Defense Against the Dark Arts teaches young wizards how to defend against dangerous dark magic and some dangerous creatures. Its importance is beyond question.”

"You wouldn't want Percy to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, would you, Minister?"

Mr. Weasley clicked his tongue in surprise.

“Oh, the Ministry of Magic is indeed preparing to recommend someone for the course at Hogwarts. But the choice has already been made, Arthur. Our current dilemma is—due to some terrible prejudice, Hogwarts. I mean, Dumbledore and Blaine are not happy to see a professional appointed by the Ministry of Magic enter Hogwarts.”

Fudge opened his mouth and grinned exaggeratedly.

"I guess Dumbledore and Blaine probably mistakenly thought that the Ministry of Magic wanted to take over their power."

"So, you want me to speak with Professor Dumbledore and Professor Blaine and persuade them to agree to the Ministry of Magic's appointment of professors for the students?"

Percy stared wide-eyed as he asked. This didn't seem like an insurmountable obstacle. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Blaine were both wizards who were very willing to communicate with people and humbly accept reasonable advice. He was fully capable of passing this test!

"Excuse me, Minister—"

Mr. Weasley had to stand up, his hand on Percy's shoulder, his sparse red hair fluttering slightly.

"The professional you just mentioned is..."

"It is Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary of the Ministry of Magic—"

Fudge said, his tone revealing resentment.

"Dolores is a powerful wizard who has fought against evil and is fully capable of taking on this teaching position, but Dumbledore and Blaine disagree."

Oh!

Mr. Weasley's face immediately fell. He quickly realized that Fudge's sending Umbridge into Hogwarts wasn't out of concern that the young wizards wouldn't have a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor; it was to cause trouble for Albus and Amostella!

"No problem, Minister!"

Percy exclaimed excitedly, as if the position of assistant minister was already within his grasp.

“I can go to Professor Blaine. He must have some misunderstanding about the department. I can persuade him to change his mind!”

"Percy!"

Mr. Weasley, with a serious expression, shouted angrily.

"You don't understand at all; this isn't something you can solve."

“Why, Dad!” Percy raised his eyebrows and said defiantly.

"because--"

Mr. Weasley glanced quickly at Fudge, his sinister gaze sending a shiver down Mr. Weasley's spine. Taking a deep breath, Mr. Weasley looked at Percy's visibly resistant face, his mind racing.

"You've already heard from the Minister that neither he nor Ms. Umbridge could convince Albus and Amostella. Do you want to prove that you're better than the Minister for Magic and the Senior Deputy Minister?!"

Percy was speechless. Of course, he wouldn't be foolish enough to say in front of the Minister of Magic that he was better than the highest-ranking official in the Ministry of Magic, but the position of Assistant Minister was right in front of him!

"Don't say that, Arthur—"

Fudge smiled coldly.

“Like I said, there’s a certain prejudice between Dolores and me against Dumbledore and Blaine, to the point that they can’t properly appreciate the Ministry’s good intentions, but Percy… oh, he’s Blaine and Dumbledore’s prized student, isn’t he? I think he has the potential to change their misconceptions—”

Under the stern gaze of Mr. Weasley, whose face was ashen, Fudge's eyes fell on Percy, who was already eager to try.

“But I must make it clear beforehand, Percy, if you can accomplish this task exceptionally well, persuading Dumbledore and Blaine to set aside their prejudices and allow Dolores to teach at Hogwarts, then I can consider you fully capable of serving as my assistant. But if you cannot accomplish this task—”

Fudge said in a regretful tone

"That means you probably need more time to settle down. You'll have to stay in the centaur's office for a while longer."

Chapter 991 Inquire

2024-06-22

As we approach the end of May, the end of the school year is just around the corner.

The joy brought to the students by the approaching summer vacation and the final competition of the top three tournament in just over two weeks eased the tension created by the equally imminent final exams.

"Stay focused, Mr. Potter!"

But Professor McGonagall wouldn't give the young wizards a chance to relax. In the Transfiguration class, while Harry and Ron were transforming a dried cod, they whispered about the night Hagrid returned and when they visited him, Hagrid refused to tell them about the scar on his face.

"And Mr. Weasley—"

Professor McGonagall strode over from the front of the classroom with a stern expression and pursed lips. As she passed Seamus, she glanced at the cod, which was now smoking after Seamus's flamboyant antics, and subconsciously moved away. Then she glared coldly at Ron, who was secretly laughing at the situation.

Professor McGonagall's gaze fell on the dried cod on the two men's table. They were supposed to be shaped like a pen holder, but the dried cod on the table were just curled up into a tube, still looking like cod.

"If you can't successfully turn your cod into pen holders before the end of get out of class, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, then I regret to inform you that you will need to write a separate twenty-inch-long paper discussing how intermediate-order Transfiguration Charms should be adjusted during cross-species transformations--"

Professor McGonagall said,

"In addition, you will need to come to my office this weekend to practice until you have successfully mastered this Transfiguration Charm before you can leave."

Harry and Ron looked sullen.

"This is undoubtedly aimed at Harry—"

Ron muttered,

"Symour's cod is even worse than ours; at least ours has some pen holder shape, right? If we don't finish, we'll have to write another paper, then..."

Bang! White light filled the air as an explosion resounded through the classroom. Ximo, his face completely blackened, rolled his eyes back and collapsed.

“Mr. Longbottom—”

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath.

"Please take Mr. Finnigan to the school hospital. Once he wakes up, tell him that he needs to do the same homework as Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley."

"It's my pleasure, Professor McGonagall."

Neville put down his exquisite pen holder, grinned, and then easily hoisted Simo onto his shoulder, leaving the classroom amidst laughter.

Ron was speechless, at a loss for words.

"Help us, Hermione!"

While Professor McGonagall was cleaning up the mess on Seamus's desk, Harry anxiously called for help from Hermione, who was glancing at the two of them.

"Humph--"

Hermione gave a rather haughty snort, then turned her head away. But a few seconds later, she turned to the side, transforming her already formed pen holder back into a cod, and demonstrated it to the two frantic boys.

Ultimately, Harry and Ron were lucky enough to manage to deform the dried cod two minutes before the end of get out of class.

"call--"

Harry, who had successfully saved his weekend, wiped away a cold sweat and smiled at Hermione, only to be met with a glare from her.

The spiral staircase was packed with students heading to the Great Hall for lunch, and Harry, his two friends, and the rest of the group slowly made their way down.

The weather was terribly hot; even the wind blowing into the castle through the archways embedded in the tower walls was sweltering. Harry gazed at the Black Lake, its shimmering surface rippling like a silver ribbon fluttering in the wind. And the Forbidden Forest... the Forbidden Forest...

Harry squinted at the vast primeval forest, and a thought suddenly popped into his mind.

For some time now, the students have been discussing the events of the third round of the championship. Unlike the first and second rounds, the warriors have not received any guidance this time, and even Hagrid knows nothing about it.

Today, there is probably only one person who knows the details of this competition: Professor Blaine, because he designed the entire competition.

Harry snapped out of his reverie and prepared to discuss the possibility of a competition in the Forbidden Forest with Hermione and Ron.

For example, the warriors were tasked with hunting those terrifying eight-eyed spiders, but to their surprise, the crowded queue on the spiral staircase hadn't moved for half a day, with Ron and Hermione standing on tiptoe to peer down, wondering who was blocking their way.

"Damn it--"

Ron rubbed his stomach and kept complaining quietly.

"I desperately need chicken drumsticks and delicious pudding to soothe my stomach, and I need to find out which idiot is blocking my way."

"Don't be so harsh, Ron—"

Hermione said calmly

"Perhaps a freshman got his foot stuck in those treacherous staircases."